


Everybody's Gone to the Rapture

by The_Exile



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Foreshadowing, Gen, Mild Horror, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Exile/pseuds/The_Exile
Summary: A storm is brewing behind the scenes of the City that Never Sleeps.





	Everybody's Gone to the Rapture

**Author's Note:**

> for pictures 51 and 52

Lucas had very quickly learned not to be taken in by any of the glamour of New Pork City. It glittered with a thousand delights, yes, and it never slept, but it was the sleeplessness of a hyperactive toddler, the cheap tacky pleasures only really there for one person, if they were usable at all and weren't just for decoration. Funfairs with carriages too small to ride in or all reserved for Him. A high-class restaurant that only sold His favourite snacks, food too fattening for normal human consumption. A cinema that showed reels of his only friends from a time nobody else in the Universe remembered, a world that might not exist any more.

Everything was free but a lot of the citizens were now beginning to wonder who was going to pay for it, when, and with what.

The framework between the City and the sewers had always been thin and it was already beginning to smell. They had sneaked in from behind an old busted cinema sound system that was discarded rather than repaired. The entrance to the abandoned apartments looked directly onto the sewers. Nobody knew they were still occupied. As Lucas and his friends carefully ascended the rickety old fire escape stairs outside the crumbling tenements, they saw long, gaunt legs, far longer than normal human standards, with faded, crumpled papers falling down from a warped desk tailor made for him a long time ago. His ankles were shackled to the desk legs.

"Leder?" Lucas whispered.

"Quietly, now, you're not meant to be here, and the automated defences still work well enough," whispered a tired old man's voice. He sounded relieved, though, behind the pain, "So you've come. I knew you would. You're a brave boy, no matter what the others say, and I know you'll save this world of ours. Listen, there's some information I have to write down now, Porky makes me do it, but I don't tell him the whole truth. I'm saving that for you, even though he'll find out and it'll get me executed, no doubt. Listen carefully, now, we don't have much time..."

Meanwhile, DCMC were preparing for their last ever performance, possibly the end of the world. A lot of people were saying that it was the end of everything, anyway. There was certainly a storm brewing and the ground was rumbling. It would be an exciting grand finale if that were true; at least they could go out with a bang.

Their old bassist Lucky was with those kids, though, the ones who swore they could fix this mess, put the whole world right again. Maybe they could even stop the Apocalypse. After all, Lucky had been something else. The band wasn't the same without him. They couldn't sing about anything but the glory of Porky and his City, not if they wanted to stay in probably the one place that still stood in the entire Universe, but did it really matter now that the end of the world was nigh? Surely nobody would notice, above all this rumbling, if they turned this whole thing into a prayer for Lucky and the boy's success.

Another tremor took the electricity out. Unplugging their instruments, they carried on with barely a moment's pause.


End file.
